


Love of the Blade

by Rinkafic



Series: Misc Fanfic [32]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinkafic/pseuds/Rinkafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Done for Kink Bingo fill "Guns/Blades"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love of the Blade

When Hikaru Sulu was seven years old, he went to a museum on a school trip. Most of the place was quite boring, as he had little interest in looking at statues of people wearing funny clothes posed around plastic replicas of dead animals.

But then they had gone into the Hall of Ancient Weapons, and a lifelong passion was born. The rest of his class moved on after the tour guide had explained the significance of the samurai blade in the case, but Hikaru could not look away. He stood as close to the glass as he could without touching it, his breath fogging the plexiglass as he stared at the weapon that had been forged centuries before, but had still retained a razor sharpness. It was a lesson in quality for the boy, one he would never forget.

His teacher dragged him away from the katana, to see other exhibits. There were many ancient daggers and hilts of daggers, all that remained after the blades had rotted away. He saw copper swords forged in Pakistan and Bangladesh. There were longswords and rapiers and sabres. But every chance he got, Hikaru ran back to look at the katana, the blade shining in the dim light of the case. The sheath hung below it, giving testament to the age of the sword, as it was discolored, ratty and parts of it were completely rotted away.

He thought often of that sword over the years, even going back to the exhibit on occasion to see it again.

His father frowned when he asked to study weapons when he had reached the point in his martial arts where the course became available to him. But his sensei claimed he had the maturity and skill to take the additional classes and his father relented. He trained with wooden swords at first, learning to grip the weapon properly, to hold it firmly against the vibration when another blade struck against his. He learned the sound of rattan hitting rattan, internalizing it as a sound he would always associate with his training.

The day his sensei declared he and two others were ready to work with live steel, his heart thumped with excitement and his mouth went dry. The sensei brought out a modern katana, one that had been made within the last few decades, a replica of an antique samurai weapon. It was still a weapon worthy of being called art. He held the sword in his hands for the first time and felt reverence for the blade, respect for the tradition behind it.

He reveled in the weight of it in his hand as he slowly moved through several katas holding it. Form was important. This was not a blade made to hack and chop. This was the weapon of an artisan, and should be treated with honor. His movements grew more fluid as he moved through exercises. He could not resist the urge to watch the blade now and then, how it caught the light as it turned in his hand, how it looked as an extension of his arm as he held it out. The katana was a thing of beauty.

It seemed almost a sin to strike another blade with it. He did so sparingly, learning to move and dodge strikes in order to spare his weapon the indignity of a hit that might damage or dull it. His sensei praised Hikaru’s restraint. As his skill grew, he learned to handle other weapons, but the katana would always be his first and greatest love. It was the katana that he went to when he exercised in the privacy of his home.

At Starfleet Academy, he took up fencing. He had found a new love, an epee was meant to be crossed and parried with, he learned new moves, new ways to block and thrust with a weapon. By graduation, he was a champion fencer, having dedicated much of his free time between his studies to perfecting his fencing form and technique.

After he joined Star Fleet, Sulu was introduced to the bladed weapons of other worlds firsthand. He was able to handle and at times purchase weapons of other societies. But the only blade that came close to intriguing him as much as his beloved katana was a Klingon bat’leth. He suspected that his fascination with the Klingon weapon stemmed from the rich history behind it and the code of honor of the warriors that wielded it as much as the weapon itself. He saw many similarities between the Klingon warriors and the samurai of ancient Japan.

On the occasion of earning his own captaincy, being given command of the USS Excelsior Hikaru was given one of the most touching gifts of his life. His former commander and friend, Admiral Kirk had gifted him with a daisho specially commissioned and crafted for him by a modern master of swordmaking in the ancient style. He proudly displayed the set of katana and wakizashi on the wall of his ready room on the Excelsior.

Occasionally, in secret, he would take the blades down and work with them, and as always, his eye would be drawn to the edge of the blade, to the light reflecting off the surface, to the perfection of the most beautiful weapon ever created by human hands.

 

The End


End file.
